


After Dawn

by Merilsell



Series: Lenyaverse: Sidestories [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkwardness, Blushing Alistair (Dragon Age), Dense Musculature Is A Thing, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Pre-Relationship, first attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 12:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merilsell/pseuds/Merilsell
Summary: Alistair woke before dawn, in the hours were the camp and its surroundings were still covered in the hush of night. It was a habit acquired in his years of his templar training and even many months after leaving the Chantry, he couldn't break away from it.His fellow Warden was all but a morning person, so he didn't expect to see her to be up already. Then again, he didn't expect... many things regarding her.





	After Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heffalumps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heffalumps/gifts).



> Aka, the first time Alistair sees Mahariel out of her armor and with little clothes. 
> 
> My belated birthday present to my dear beta and friend @heffalumps, since she enjoys reading Lenyastair as much as I do writing it.

Alistair woke before dawn, in the hours were the camp and its surroundings were still covered in the hush of night. It was a habit acquired in his years of his templar training and even many months after leaving the Chantry, he couldn't break away from it. Especially not now, where nightmares of darkspawn and about... _Ostagar_ added to the shortness of his sleeping hours.

After dressing in the warmest clothes he possessed, Alistair ducked out of his tent. He stood straight and stretched to rid himself from the last vestiges of sleep. He inhaled the brisk, dry mountain air, which bore a hint of smoke from the still smoldering embers. Shuddering, he stepped near to the smoking coals, the only source of warmth. The campfire needed tending, new tinder to last throughout the morning till they would break camp to advance further up the Frostback Mountain, toward the Gherlen Pass.

Somehow, the closer they came to Orzammar, the colder it seemed to get. Given how they were marching _upwards_ , by now probably a thousand feet above ground, the immense temperature drop shouldn't surprise him. Nor that the grass underneath his boots was crusted in a thin layer of frosted morning dew. Not when the sun was still an hour or more away from rising.

He grabbed a few of the split branches from yesterday's pile and carefully fed the glowing cinder with a thin stick until it sparked a flame. Then he added another and bit by bit thicker branches, until the fire burned again as it did during his guard duty only a couple of hours ago. Warming his hands near the flames, his gaze wandered to the tent across of his own. Lenya had the last guard shift and naturally was still fast asleep. She generally didn't seem to be the type to rise early by choice, however. Every time where they had to set off at daybreak to manage their daily regiment of marching, she did so grousing and with little words. Then again, this also appeared to be her default mood regarding many, if not all, activities. And being stuck as one of the two Wardens in Ferelden during a Blight, Alistair couldn't _exactly_ fault her for being grumpy.

Chuckling to himself, he retrieved an empty cooking pot near the campfire and set out to collect water from an ice-crusted stream nearby the camp. It were these little, mundane tasks which he enjoyed, for they gave him a sense of routine and normalcy. Especially in a time where everything was uncertain and chaotic.

 

****

 

An hour later, Alistair had settled down next to the campfire with a cup of warmed up rabbit stew, still slightly sweaty from his morning exercise. Leliana, another early riser, kept him silent company. From the trees enclosing both sides of their camp mountain birds twittered their song. The sunlight streaking through the weave of clouds roused more colors from their sleepy monochrome. Morning had broken, at last.

Alistair rolled his shoulders and barely suppressed a yawn. It would be yet again a long, tiring day on the road.

"Do you think we will reach Orzammar by nightfall?" Leliana asked all the sudden, as if being able to read his mind.

He looked up to her. While her chin-long, auburn hair was neatly combed, the dark circles under her eyes spoke of her tiredness. It had been an exhausting trip on an uneven, rocky terrain, going only further upward the mountain. Well maybe it had been not so for the golem or the Qunari, since they were more grousing about the group lagging behind than the cumbersome journey. Though Alistair decided people lasting twenty days without food and water in a cage and those made out of literal stone didn't get to complain about them needing more breaks in between. Warden stamina, or not.

"I hope so." He let out a sigh and shielded his eyes as he glanced up to the sky above. "If the weather holds and we are marching through, we could manage that. I mean, according to the map, once we have reached the Gherlen Pass, the entrance to Orzammar isn't far anymore."

Leliana's doubting look and a faint snort told him that his optimism wasn't exactly mutual. "Your lips to the Maker's ears, Alistair." She blew on her bowl of hot stew seated in her lap, to cool it down a bit. "You want to rouse the others? If we want to manage your ambitious goal, we should be breaking up camp soon."

"Ah, no." Alistair shook his head. "I like to be alive. So I won't risk losing my head in poking it into Morrigan's tent, nor Lenya's." He shuddered. " _Especially_ not Morrigan's." The corners of his lip twitched upward. "Besides, I already made breakfast."

Leliana rolled her eyes. "More like you _warmed_ up breakfast than made it."

He gave her a shrug. "Breakfast is breakfast. Besides, be glad that I didn't cook it. You would regret it."

She made a face. "Oh yeah. What was that... uniformly grey soup again you made for supper three days ago?"

"Oh that?" He smirked. "Ferelden Lamb and Pew Stew. Only with um, venison, I guess. Since lamb is hard to come by out here." Seeing her irked face, he already knew the answer to his question in advance, but asked in spite. "Why? Did you like it?"

"Liking would be too strong a word, Alistair. And I don't think the wrong meat in there was to blame for its blandness."

"Aww, you wound me. Me and my cooking skill." Ever since Leliana joined their rag-tag group, he couldn't help teasing her. Unlike with Morrigan, his banter with the bard lacked the sharpness or sting of deep-seated dislike. It was friendly, comfortable instead. "Skill as in singular, of course. As in I am only really good in burning food, when cooking. Or throwing everything in a pot." He paused for effect. "Oh wait, I lied then. These are already _two_ skills."

"Maker, how did you survive in the wilderness all these weeks then?"

"A mystery to both of us, I'm sure." Alistair laughed out loud. "I appreciate how you and my fellow Warden are saving me from starvation, of course."

"Speaking of which..." Leliana nodded toward Lenya's tent, from which the elf had just surfaced. "Look who is up."

"Oh good morning, sunshine," he greeted her, well knowing it would be only draw her ire.

The Dalish only stared at him bleary-eyed for a moment and grunted into his general direction. Her wheat-blonde, long hair was unbound and mussy, and covering most of her pale, freckled face. Her over-sized, dark linen tunic hung loose over her hips and looked more like a mismatched dress than a shirt. Without a further word, she vanished behind the line of tall trees at the other side of camp. Trailing her slouchy and sleepy form till its disappearance, Alistair's grin widened.

Yep, she was definitely no morning person. Which was, in its very own way, endearing somehow.

Shaking his head as if needing to lose this trail of thought, his attention snapped back to the bard. "This leaves only Morrigan then. I wish you luck."

Leliana sighed out. "Fine. I'll go. But you better check the snares we laid out together around camp last night, before dealing with packing up your things. Maybe we caught a rabbit or two in it."

"Mmm, _more_ rabbit stew, can't wait."

Putting her bowl aside, she glared at him for the useless comment. "I can always feed your portion to Revas, if you find it so terrible."

As if summoned by the mere combination of his name and the mentioning of food, the mabari darted out from Lenya's tent, knocking it half over in the process. Barking loudly and with his stump tail wagging, he steered directly toward Leliana. But instead of greeting her like she thought, he made a beeline for the bowl of stew she placed on the ground. The slobbering sound right after told Alistair that the mabari had no trouble finding it.

He could hardly contain his laughter. "Looks like _you_ did this just now, Leliana."

"Ugh, so much for breakfast." She sighed again before standing up. "I better go then and wake Morrigan, if she hadn't turned into a bird and flown away overnight."

"Aww, please don't make promises you can't keep."

Her annoyed look was enough to let him refrain from further commentary. "You better think of checking the traps for game. Our rations are running low and I just want to be prepared in case we don't manage to reach Orzammar today."

Leliana was right, of course. Even worse than repeated rabbit stew for days on end was the prospect of only eating hardtack boiled into a mash. "Yes. I will be going - "Alistair noticed a snuffling snout aiming for his portion of his stew and put it out of Revas' reach. "-soon." He gave the hound a baleful look, but instead of being ashamed of his attempted theft, Revas sat down and _whined_. To strengthen his emotional manipulation, the dog canted his head and glanced up to Alistair with his sad, brown eyes. It would have worked if he hadn't grown up with mabari around him for years, and thus already knew all their tricks. "Nice try, but no," Alistair said, grinning down at him. "You already had your share. This is _my_ breakfast."

Revas huffed out and walked off toward the Qunari to try his luck for more treats there.

 

  
****

 

Laying out traps was usually a task best suited for Lenya, the trained hunter in their group. Maybe even for Morrigan, as she was called _witch of the wilds_ for a reason. Even Leliana was far more ably in that than he was. However due to duty rotation, Alistair was required to take over these tasks as well, however rarely. Collecting the game in the morning after, if there was any, was the easier duty of the two. Given one knew the places where they had been laid out before, of course. Luckily he'd accompanied the bard the evening before and thus could find them again without much difficulty.

However, four of the six traps turned out to be empty, while the bait was gone. Huh, maybe he should watch Lenya laying out traps instead to see how it was done, since her yielding always seemed to be better. With only two snares left to go, Alistair really hoped to find some less intelligent rodents in it, or it would be back to mushed up hardtack for supper.

Not relishing the thought, he shuddered as he steered toward the fifth trap left behind a line of trees. Alistair stopped in front of them without entering the clearing, because of a telltale hum buzzing in his head. His fellow Warden was still here and hadn't returned to camp yet like he prior thought. Since the stream was on the other side of camp, he wouldn't run into her bathing, or half-naked, at least. That would really be awkward for the approximately five minutes he then had still left to live after that.

Looking upwards to the treetops that appeared to be sky-high, he huffed out a nervous breath. Maker, that woman was indeed terrifying. Alistair was convinced she could make the archdemon leaving and go back to its old god slumber for another thousand years, simply by _demanding_ it from the creature.

With that thought in mind, he entered the clearing, only to immediately halt again a few steps in. Alistair saw his fellow Warden hanging sideways from a sturdy, thick tree branch, her back turned to him. He rushed toward Lenya to help her, since she dangled about ten feet above ground -which was nearly twice her height. But then she pulled herself up with ease until her head was above the level of the branch, then went back to let herself hang for a moment. Right after, she repeated the motion, her legs held completely still as she pulled herself up again.

With the initial panic about her being in danger gone, Alistair also registered that Lenya had forgone her dark shirt, coldness in spite. Which left her wearing only her breastband, and him inappropriately staring at her toned back. The motion of her continued pullups did... interesting things to her back and arms, and... had she always been so lean-muscled? Was this normal for Dalish? The elves he had seen had all been much thinner, nearly scrawny in comparison. And why was he even still watching? He really, _really_ should look away _now_ , as long he still had the chance to somehow salvage this situation. He felt the heat burning in his cheeks, then it trailed further downwards to settle in his stomach. It was suddenly much, _much_ warmer.

Averting his eyes at last, Alistair cleared his throat. It was as much to announce his presence as it was to cover up his own awkwardness. In his peripheral vision he noticed how she let go of the branch and landing gracefully on the ground with a crouch.

"Alistair?" She was walking up to him, sweaty and near half-naked. That fact confused his fight-or-flight reflex to the point of being rooted on the spot. "What are you doing here?"

"Y-you are not dressed," he blurted out, shielding his eyes with one hand.

Lenya let out a groan. "I am not naked either."

"P-please get dressed."

"Fine," she replied in the same annoyed tone and stepped away from him. Presumably to fetch her discarded tunic from the ground. Alistair wasn't looking to check that, though. "You shems and your weird concept of modesty. How you ever exercise with wearing that many layer of clothes?"

 _It is not weird_ , he thought, while trying to refrain from thinking of elves frolicking naked through the woods. _Bad brain,_ _baaad_. "Are you not cold?" he asked instead.

"No. Not anymore." Alistair heard the rustle of fabric as she put her shirt back on. "Helps me to get awake on a shitty morning too."

"I see." He let his hand fall back to his side and opened his eyes again. Sweaty strands of her hair, now tucked up into a messy bun, were plastered to her tattooed forehead. She was breathing heavily and her otherwise fair skin was flushed, heated from the exercise. He blinked slowly, watching her expression shifting into a scowl due to his continued staring.

"I came here to check the snare we laid out," Alistair said then, too fast and out of place. "I -" He left the sentence hanging. Turning on his heels, he darted into the opposite direction, the trap long forgotten.


End file.
